As far as I am concerned, I am good at two things in this world:
1): Talking endlessly about nothing in particular
2): Completing long journeys without too much bother
Now I have tried to isolate the reasons behind the second of those two major skills, and have narrowed it down to three parts:
1) Having the ability to daydream for hours on end
2) Being able to sleep anywhere, under any circumstances
3) Being at my most comfortable in a situation where there is no possibility of being able to work, so I don't feel guilty about not working
I would need all these skills in abundance on the journey I have just been on. I would say it is the worst bus journey I have just been on. And I should know - I was on it. It was so horrific for the following reasons:
- The 'organisation'
- The 'coach'
- Fellow passengers
- The smell
- The roads
- The catering
- The length of the journey
The 'Organisation'
Well, there wasn't really any. As far as I can tell it was two blokes (a conductor and a driver) who owned a bus and had decided to drive it down to Maputo for a laugh, just taking some people along with them for the fun of it. There was seat allocation, at least. Well I was pointed in the direction of the last seat without anyone in it, which to be honest I would have taken anyway, but it was nice to be directed to my seat all the same. And despite initially being told it would cost me 2000 Meticais, three hours into the journey the conductor came round and demanded 2500. Which made me really happy, especially given that by that time I had been able to experience a little of what I would go through for the following 25 hours.
The 'Coach'
I was encouraged by a notice just inside the door saying '65 Lugares', which suggested they would be limiting the number of people on the bus. Not so. I counted 109 people at peak capacity, which, let me tell you, is a bit of a squeeze. Especially as I was seemingly the only person to put my luggage in the hold, everyone else having taken their suitcases on board with them - and with hindsight, I made the right choice. The seats also deserve a comment. Basically a park bench would be a useful comparison, except a park bench doesn't bounce along potholed roads for hours on end. The phrase 'numb bum' sprung to mind often throughout the trip. Ventilation was also limited - mainly because it is winter here and my fellow passengers were cold. I am pretty sure it never dropped below 25 degrees on the trip, but they were still in hats, scarves and gloves. I was sitting there in shorts and t shirt looking at one particular Michelin man thinking, 'you ought to try going to Wales in February mate.'
Fellow Passengers
Aside from not opening the windows, there were a number of other things that made them not the most pleasant people to travel with. Like those on the bus (at least 10, I reckon) with tuberculosis. Who didn't feel the need to cover their mouths when they coughed. Lucky I had my multivits - otherwise I would be in bed, ill right now. Obviously if you have tb and you don't cover your mouth, why bother if you are sneezing? And the number of mothers with babies was too many. I was sandwiched between 4 mothers and six infants. All of whom were still at the 'breast-feeding, soiling oneself' stage. I am growing more comfortable with the nursing of children, but it wasn't easy to avert my eyes when there were suckling children in 360 degrees of my vision. And these kids loved to make a racket. And throw food everywhere. And just fall over everywhere.
The Smell
If this was Wikipedia, there would be a message here saying, 'It has been suggested that this article be merged with 'Fellow Passengers'', but it was such an important issue that it needs its own heading. I'm just going to tell you the kinds of smell, and you can fill in the rest of the description yourself:
- Urine
- Faeces
- Vomit
- Sweat
- Africa
The Roads
We moan about the M25. Mozambique only has 1 road, the N1, and they can't even maintain that properly. Not that they aren't trying - we had to take a sand track for at least 3 hours because there were road works, which have apparently been going on for 12 years - and we complain that the M1 roadworks are taking too long. Yeah, the roads weren't ideal, but not the worst in Africa, it's just I've never spent as long on them in one go before this.
The Catering
Obviously there were multiple opportunities to get decent food en route. Oh no wait...there weren't. Stopping at junctions we had the opportunity to buy sandy bread rolls through the window, or if we fancied a live chicken. It got to the stage, having eaten only a pack of biscuits and a banana in 20 hours that I did consider buying, then plucking a chicken in the bus (there were worse things floating around than chicken feathers by that point), but I then realised I'd left my rotisserie and coals in the hold, so there was no way of cooking it. Damn.
The Length of the Journey
This was the only real reason why the other issues were issues. I could have endured it quite happily for a few hours, but twenty-eight is just a bit too long to sit next to a man who clearly hasn't washed in weeks.
Having said all this, I was asleep for twelve hours, daydreaming for five and read my book for quite a few hours too, so I was able to get through it. And now I am in a nice hostel on a very nice beach with some cool people, listening to Bob Marley and eating prawns, so the journey was just a means to an end. Although I did have to spend another seven hours getting a ferry and another bus before I reached here. And it is now raining. But this is Africa - expect the unexpected. Except I was expecting much worse, so I'm actually quite pleased.
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